Twin Suns Rise
by flamewarflipsides
Summary: In the aftermath of Hart and Cohle's showdown in Carcosa, their case looks solved, and what parts of it aren't are federal jurisdiction. Somehow, though, that doesn't seem right to Thomas Papania. He asks Gilbough to type up his paperwork so he can go investigate, and like Cohle, gets more than he bargained for. For the Fanfiction-Friends Friendship contest at deviantART.


Detective Thomas Papania dropped a pile of paperwork on the desk.

Maynard looked up, fighting the urge to blink as more of the fluorescent light reached his eyes, as the whitewashed walls finally came into his peripheral vision. His younger partner stood over him, looming there the way he'd loomed over the crime scene. Maynard steeled himself. "What the hell is this?"

"I was wondering if you could do up the paperwork while I follow up on some loose ends." Tom smiled, that playful smirk at the corner of his lips that blossoming to show his white teeth, and for a moment, Maynard almost complied. Almost. Then he glared.

"There are no loose ends. Least none we can follow up on." Maynard shrugged, pushing away from his desk to better mark eye contact with his partner. "The FBI's got jurisdiction on the rest of it. They'll call us."

Tom shook his head. "Yeah, but they can't know Louisiana like we do. Or this case. They weren't in that room with Cohle, not when he was on top of this."

Maynard held his hand up. "You're acting exactly like Cohle did right before he resigned. You know that, right?"

"Well," Tom replied, puffing his narrow chest out a little, "like he said to us, 'Time is a flat circle.' He kept on this case until it drove him nuts 'cause things didn't add up, and because the pressure was on to stop."

Maynard stood, stepping into Tom's space. "Then Hart gets sucked in and starts acting the same way."

Tom's smirk returned briefly, but after a second it faded into an angry frown. "And they got their man. They got three, maybe four of their men. But you and I know there are more."

"So what do you want from me?"

"Either type up these reports so I can go finish this," Tom said, leaning in, dropping his voice, "Or come with me, back me up."

Maynard looked from side to side, looking around the office. The sea of desks seemed almost empty, most of them unfilled. Those people who were there had their eyes on their own paperwork or computer screens, oblivious, accustomed. Nobody was looking; they had nothing to look for. They had no idea. "What are you gonna do that needs backing up, Tom?"

"Cohle's storage unit's still a crime scene, ain't it?"

"Pick up your paperwork, Papania," Maynard grumbled, standing and grabbing his coat.

Once again that smile bloomed on Tom's face, and for a moment he looked more like a child at Christmas than a rising star detective. Tom grabbed the stack off Maynard's desk and started toward the door. Then, wisely, he looked around. He stopped, took a breath, and walked more slowly.

Maynard followed in silence, through the lonely lot dotted with cars, until they were both inside Tom's sedan. Tom settled into the driver's seat a moment after Maynard, and they buckled their belts in unison.

"Tom, think about this a minute. Cohle did this whole thing off hours and got suspended for it. That why he quit." Maynard checked his buckle. "If you keep at this thing, what you think gonna happen to you?"

"Gilbough, people thinking, 'What's gonna happen to me?' is why we ain't wrapped this case until this year." Tom took a deep breath, looking up out the driver's side window, at the black night sky. "It took two detectives givin' up everything they ever had to break this case, and even then, only 'cause I played ball with 'em."

"What makes you even think we can break this? Ain't neither one of us on the same level as Cohle. The media's already sayin' the Tuttles ain't got nothing to do with it, even though he pretty sure they do. No leads, Tom." Maynard leaned over, closer, watching the smile disintegrate on his partner's face. "And if we do find somebody, what then? Do the new detectives on our case think they got loose ends, go rogue on their own? Does it keep going 'til all those men all have to be dead, and after?"

"Maybe it does, Maynard." Tom's head whipped sideways, until those dark eyes made contact, shining in the dome light. "We know these people teach their kids what they do. Maybe these kids learn it; maybe they'll do it again someday. Maybe eventually someone starts thinkin' it's ok, that nothing was ever wrong with it. All 'cause we got careers at stake, and they got powerful men ready to take 'em away."

Maynard leaned back into his seat, steeling himself. "Don't get lost, Tom."

"I won't get lost if I got you leaving breadcrumbs."

"I'm sure that's what Rust Cohle thought." Maynard shook his head.

"All he had for a partner was Hart. I got you."

Maynard smiled as they drove off into the black, starry night.


End file.
